


sweetheart

by parkjinchu



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Angst, BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE JINCHA IM SO SORRY, Fluff, M/M, i love jincha ok, more tags will be added later (i dont want to spoil)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu
Summary: Inspired by the plot of A Girl And Three Sweethearts (Suki na Hito ga Iru Koto)Park Jinwoo's passion had always been baking. In fact, his dream was to become a patissier - but he doesn't realise how dedicated to his role he is until his best friend brings up his love life. In the shocking realisation of his loneliness, Jinwoo falls into a spiral of love and heartbreak, after meeting his first love again.A story on choosing love or loyalty.this is a work of fiction, and in no way represents the real lives of astro's members. in case of astro/fantagio/reasonable fan request, this fic will be taken downread full disclaimer on my profile





	sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> so... im back!! with some more jincha... because who doesnt love a bit of jincha, hmm?  
> lets get a few things out of the way before we begin, shall we?  
> to start, this fic is inspired by the japanese drama 'a girl and three sweethearts' (however, jinwoo does not have three sweethearts to choose from). in the plot of this film the main character is a marvelous baker but her heart is so set on baking she forgets about her love life and hasnt kissed anyone for years. she goes on a search for a kiss. theres another similarity, but its very loose and mentioning it would give away a huge chunk of the story (and i havent even finished that jdrama either oops)  
> secondly, im gonna try and pump out two fics at once, alternating. so please bear with me if i update slowly, because im trying for a balance!! 
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading through this, and i hope you enjoy!

The kitchen looked atrocious.

Smattered flour caked the benches, smothering them. Egg splattered along the floor in places nearby where he stood. A puddle of milk dribbled over the lip of the counter and onto the tiles. Melted chocolate lay smeared across every surface within two metres. His preparations book, already stained on every page, drowns its corner in frosting.

Grimacing, Jinwoo begins his cleaning process by wiping his book down, and checking the pages for damages. This preparation book, journaling his attempts and successes in cake making, is not his first, but still very important. Each page is unique in detailing the steps he takes and the errors he makes, with scribbles, highlighted sentences, dot points, and diagrams. Being a patissier was Park Jinwoo’s passion, it always had been, and he was determined to do his best.

As he continues to clean up the mess he’d made, he feels his arms begin to ache. He’d been working all day, and into the night. The moon, in the middle of the sky, casts a pale glow onto the small corner of the kitchen unlit. His friends told him he worked too hard for his career, and that he deserved to take a break, or sleep longer hours – but Jinwoo always disagreed.

Myungjun would invite him on holidays overseas, claiming it was vital for him to see more than just his apartment, his bakery, and the _route_ to his bakery. Minhyuk would suggest new hobbies, like art or dance. Sanha would agree with Minhyuk, and sign them up for classes (to which Jinwoo only attended out of guilt). Jinwoo always argues that they simply don’t understand. Patisserie had always been his dream; he didn’t believe he needed anything else.

Which was why it came as a shock to him, when Minhyuk began interrogating him one day, and he realised he hadn’t even _kissed_ anyone in three whole years.

“Three years?” Minhyuk asked, eyes wide. He digs his fork into a piece of cake Jinwoo had handed him, and his eyes flutter shut. “Delicious, as usual – but, don’t try and distract me! Has it really been three years since you last…” He trails off, taking another piece of strawberries and cream cake into his mouth. Around the spongey texture, he mumbles, “Not even… _Ya know_?”

Jinwoo’s face curls up in disgust, and he drags the plate away from Minhyuk. “Don’t.” Is all he says, brushing off the innuendoes. He takes a forkful of the cake himself, raising his eyebrows, and scribbling a correction in his journal. “Besides, I don’t really have the time, and I love what I do… I… Didn’t think I needed anything else,” he mumbles, tucking his pencil in the spiral of the notebook and shoving it to the side.

A silence is strung between them, giving Jinwoo a moment to reflect. Here, by the bench at the shop, he sits opposite his best friend. The sign at the door reads _closed_ , and a few people stop by and gawk at the cakes in the window, before heading out into the night again. He thinks about his apartment, a petite little home with a garden balcony and a big bathtub.

His bed, always cold on one side, where another body has never laid, the other cushion fluffed and without a dent in the centre. Food that only he liked, and that only he had ventured to try, in his cupboard. The shoe rack by the door, lined solely with his sneakers. The bathroom cupboard, filled with his hair and skincare products, suited to his needs, but no one else’s. He’d noticed all of these factors before, these small things that indicated his loneliness. Jinwoo had a habit of ignoring them.

Perhaps, he didn’t want to face the reality of his severe lack of companionship. He sits, now, with a heavy solemnness in his chest, that arrives with the realisation.

“Okay,” Minhyuk begins, flicking Jinwoo’s bottom lip. He realises he’s been pouting, and captures it under his top teeth, instead. “When was the last time you were in a relationship?” He asks, and takes the cake back, eating a strawberry off the top.

Jinwoo looks to the ceiling, thinking. Truthfully, he’d only ever been in two relationships. One, in high school, with a beautiful and incredibly smart boy. His first love bloomed beautifully, but was cut too soon. Sometimes, Jinwoo still thinks about him, the memories no longer soured, but a little faded. The other, with a guy in university. He was loving and doting, and Jinwoo wonders how long they would have held onto their love if not for the boy moving abroad to study.

Another realisation: Jinwoo’s previous kiss was a sad one – a final, goodbye kiss. He tells Minhyuk this, who only frowns in response.

“What have you been doing all this time?” He whispers, and the older man lifts his arms up to gesture at the room, at the business he spent years building, making Minhyuk roll his eyes. “You know what? I shouldn’t have asked,” he says, and scoops a chunk of cream out of the centre of the cake. “’T was worth it though, this tastes great.”

Jinwoo shrugs, “I think the strawberry to cream ratio is a little off,” he mutters, making Minhyuk scoff.

“Nerd. This is why no one wants to date you,” the boy says bluntly. He finishes off the last chunk of cake, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We need to stage an intervention, of sorts,” he mutters, gesturing vaguely in the patissier’s direction.

He grimaces, and scoops up the dirty plate, “If it’s meant to be, I’ll find someone,” Jinwoo replies, turning on the tap.

“Don’t give me this ‘fate’ shit, Jinwoo. Relationships take work and effort – it’s not just a matter of who likes who. It may have been in high school or university, but how old are you, now?”

Silence blankets the room, the running tap the only sound in the darkened room. Jinwoo grips the edge of the sink, contemplating Minhyuk’s words. Perhaps it was time he branched out and attempted to find love? The thought prodded at his heart, and he sucked in a deep breath, “What about the bakery?” He asks, suddenly, turning around.

“Jinwoo – you own a self-run business. You’re allowed to take a break when you need, and you have an array of wonderful staff at your fingertips. If you decide to go on a date, I’m sure any of them would be ready to take over for a few hours,” Minhyuk assures. Standing, he collects his backpack from the floor, and heads to the door. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, but you should certainly think about it, JinJin,” he says, tone softening slightly, as he dropped the nickname.

Jinwoo nods, and slides the clean plate aside. “Going home, to Sanha?” he asks, small, awkward smile settling on his lips.

Minhyuk’s thumb rubs in circles on the door handle, and he smiles gently, nodding. “I’ll see you soon, Jinwoo,” he says, waving behind him as he exits. The jingle of the bells ring, and Jinwoo is finally alone.

Cautiously, he brings his fingers up to his lips, and presses them gently. They’re plush, but the pink skin is a little rough beneath the pads of his fingers. A cold feeling begins at his belly and wells up to his head – no one had romantically loved him for three years, and his lips had been left untouched. Jinwoo sighs, dropping his hand to his side.

A fear he hadn’t felt since his first break up, with his beloved high school boyfriend, skids to the forefront of his mind: _What if no one ever loves me again?_

**+**

When Jinwoo wakes, it’s the first time he addresses the cold patch beside him. He sticks his foot under the duvet, and feels the chill slide over him. He smooths over the sheets, his palm sliding over the space a person could fill. Then, he stares at the empty spot, and wonders what it’d be like to have another person sleep there.

Would their warmth radiate off their body? Could he run his fingers along their soft skin, and watch the goose-bumps prickle in his wake? Would their sleepy face stir into a space, squished up against that very pillow, now with a dent in the centre? The mattress, would it dip slightly under the curves of their form? Would their scent stain the sheets, leaving a piece of them behind to always return too?

Jinwoo sighs, throwing his duvet over the empty spot. _Stupid Minhyuk_ , he thinks. Minhyuk was the one who put these thoughts into his head. Minhyuk was the one who made him think this way. _And, Stupid Sanha_ , he tacks onto the end, _for making Minhyuk mushy_.

Even so, as he rolls out of bed and prepares himself for work, he can’t help but notice the bathroom cabinet bare bar his own products, or the shoe rack only stuffed with three pairs of shoes, and one of his socks. If someone he loved lived here, they could haphazardly shove their shoes onto the shoe rack, too, or accidentally eat Jinwoo’s foods. The thought makes a warm tingling feeling erupt in his chest.

The walk to work is the same as always – the old woman in the apartment across the hall wishes him a good morning. The dog outside the apartment entrance wags his tail, letting it slap against the concrete, awaiting a pat from Jinwoo. A crack in the path, around the second corner – he steps over the tufts of grass growing in the tiny trench. The morning bus collects its first passengers, before skittering off into the distance. And then, finally, Jinwoo arrives at the bakery.

It’s a quaint little store, with cake designs set up in the front window, along with little pastries. Well-loved by all, Jinwoo’s bakery had become a wonderful success.

Unlocking the door, he sets up for the day, before eventually leaving the door open to invite customers inside. The first customer is a young girl, clad in her school uniform. The second is a young couple, perhaps in university, who order two pieces of cake and settle into the far corner of the room. From the corner of his eye, Jinwoo watches them.

The girl scoops up a piece of cake and holds the fork up to her boyfriend’s mouth. Gently, she prods the cream against the bow of his lips, and he gratefully accepts the treat, before nuzzling into her side. Couples frequented his bakery – it was a great date spot (as set up by Myungjun, who whole-heartedly insisted on designing the interior as a date location). Jinwoo had never taken much notice, but after the conversation from the previous night, he can’t help but feel a twinge of green jealousy in his heart.

Sometime in the middle of the day, after spending most of his time cooped up in the hot kitchen, Jinwoo steps out to man the counter. A little girl taps her fingers against the glass, pointing at a bright pink cupcake in the window, tugging on her mother’s sleeve. Jinwoo gives her a sample piece, which she pops into her mouth with a giggle. He laughs with her, and almost doesn’t notice someone waiting at the counter.

Eventually, he turns, “How are you today?” he asks, and looks up at the man. His black hair fans out over his forehead, and tapers down into his heart shaped face. A petite, long nose sits in the centre of his face, between his sparkling eyes curled into crescents. His smile is soft, pink, and delicate. A flicker of recognition sparks in Jinwoo’s heart, as those lips lift into a broad smile, showcasing a row of pearly white teeth.

The man goes to order, taking in a breath, before Jinwoo interrupts him, “D-Dongmin?” He asks, to which the man falters and quirks his head to the side, eyes squinting.

He’d done this in high school, too – when confused, his head would loll to the side, and he’d squint, examining whatever or whoever was before him. Jinwoo had told him – Dongmin, his first love – that it was cute. Looking at Dongmin now, grown-up and still handsome, he still believes it is cute.

Recognition settles in Dongmin’s gaze, and he grins, stepping forward a little. “Jinwoo!” He declares, pointing at him. “I haven’t seen you in years, how are you?” the man asks, excitement bubbling out of him.

Jinwoo huffs out a laugh, and gestures at the shop around him, “This is my bakery! I work in the kitchen most of the time. I’m a patissier, now,” he declares, grin hoisted on his lips.

Dongmin’s mouth falls open slightly, though still wrapped in a grin, and his eyes sparkle with delight. “You achieved your dream!” He replies, pressing a hand to his chest, where his heart beats.

Had Dongmin remembered this? A few faded memories flicker like film tape in Jinwoo’s mind, recollections of making cakes to score Dongmin’s affections. He’d carefully ice little hearts into the frosting, or design cupcakes, that when cut in the centre, revealed a heart. He blushes at the thought, and pulls his focus back to the same person, no longer a boy, but a man.

“I did! I can’t believe you remembered,” Jinwoo admits, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“How could I forget?” Dongmin replied, flashing his grin. That smile, that Jinwoo had fallen in love with in his teens, is the same, if not brighter. “You were the best sweets chef I’d ever tasted. Probably, even to this day,” he co mpliments, shrugging slightly.

Jinwoo’s heart fidgets in his chest, a distantly familiar feeling that brings with it a sense of _Deja Vu_. “How are you? What brought you to my bakery this morning?” He asks, noticing his voice dip a little, fondly.

The raven-haired man grins, “I was just getting some morning tea before work, thought I’d try something new…” He glances over at the glass case, peering in at all the little sweets and treats lining the shelves. “Any recommendations?”

 _Something that will impress him_ , Jinwoo thinks to himself, flicking through the filing cabinet in his brain of his cakes. “Uh,” he begins, and Dongmin cocks his head to the side again, squinting. His eyes curl into crescents, pushed upward with the weight of his smile. Nostalgia churns within the older man. “How about the strawberries and cream cake? Recipe perfected last night!” He grins, smile widening at Dongmin’s incredulous gaze.

“Uh, I guess I’ll take that, please,” he mutters.

As Jinwoo plates up the cake in a paper box, he asks, “So, what do you do now?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Dongmin answers, handing over some money from his wallet. “It’s a lot different to what I expected it to be when I was studying… But, it’s okay. Work load is huge, but I manage,” he shrugs. He gratefully accepts the box, and thanks Jinwoo again. Jinwoo feels his heart swoop low into his tummy as Dongmin turns to leave.

“Wait!” He calls, and Dongmin pauses in his strides, turning back around, the same grin he’d had since they’d first known each other sweetly present on his lips. Jinwoo craves this feeling of nostalgia, this emotion that sends him back to his youth, more. “Come back again, okay? Let’s catch up.”

Dongmin leaves, with the promise to catch up, and more cake. Afterwards, as the day goes on, Jinwoo can’t help but contemplate their chance encounter.

It felt strange to talk to Dongmin again, especially after so long – the last time they’d spoken, they’d both been crying. Today, he saw Dongmin as he once always had, sparkling and smiling, only with slightly deeper lines in his face – and without a status on their relationship. The boy had practically defined Jinwoo’s adolescence; seeing him again welled up the memories of his youth.

The next day, Jinwoo keeps an eye on the front door, from opening until closing, in the hopes that he’d see his old friend. The wish to see Dongmin again pulls at his chest, unexpectedly. He can’t figure out why, exactly, after they met only once for a few short minutes, that he wants to see Dongmin again so badly.

When Dongmin doesn’t turn up, Jinwoo feels a heavy weight in his bones.

He locks the door behind Minhyuk as the boy steps in, and reluctantly swings the sign to ‘closed’. “Whatcha doing here?” Jinwoo asks, stepping behind the counter to continue cleaning up, as Minhyuk settles at a table. He lets the boy rattle on about nabbing some pastries no longer fresh, and Jinwoo nods lamely along, concentrating on wiping down the benches, instead.

“Are you okay?” Minhyuk asks, softly. His eyebrows are turned down and there’s semblance of a small smile on his lips, a flicker of worry dancing in his eyes.

Jinwoo pastes on a grin, shrugging, “Yeah! I’m fine,” he answers, voice a little too high to pass off as realistic.

His best friend knew he was lying straight away, as good best friends do. “Is this about our discussion the other night?” The younger man asks, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. His voice speeds up, in panic, “I really didn’t mean to make you upset, I’m sorry if I did, I just-.”

“Hyuk!” Jinwoo cuts him off, with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine… It’s not about our chat,” he mutters, smiling wryly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Minhyuk asks, hopefully. The older man nods quickly, dropping his broom he’d been using to sweep against the wall, and falling into the chair opposite his friend. “Wait! Can I have some food?” He asks, fluttering his eyelashes hopefully.

Jinwoo huffs, letting his head sink onto the table. “Get it yourself,” he mumbles, muffled in his position. Minhyuk’s chair scrapes backward along the tiles as he scurries behind the display window inside, scanning the products eagerly. “Just don’t eat any strawberries and cream cake.”

“Hmm?” the boy hums, around a bite of apple pie. “Why not?”

“Uh… It’s been a hit seller today,” he mutters, shrugging. “I made heaps of it to sell big tomorrow.”

“Oh, cool.” Minhyuk sits back down, a rather large slice of apple pie sat upon his plate, and dug into it with a fork. “Anyway, what did you wanna tell me?”

Jinwoo sighs, beginning the story. “Ok, so… You remember that guy I dated in high school?” He asks.

Minhyuk, with the fork hanging from his lips, mumbles, “The insanely attractive one?”

“Yes… But, he was more than tha-.”

“How did you even score him, anyway?”

“Minhyuk!” Jinwoo cries. “Let me talk!”

When silence follows, Jinwoo continues, “Anyway, I’d almost completely forgotten about him until yesterday, when he turned up during his morning tea break. He’s a lawyer, now, and anyway – we were chatting and he was really happy about my bakery and what I’ve done. As he was leaving, he promised to come back soon.

“But, today, he didn’t turn up at all… I waited all day and he never showed. Which is silly of me to get worked up over, especially because of his job, and he’s probably so busy. But I really did want to catch up with him again, I got really excited about it, you know? I wanna see what he’s up to… I kinda missed him,” he admits, long rant coming to a stop.

Minhyuk remains silent for a moment, eyebrows raised as he scoops up more of his sweet pie. “I understand… I think,” he says, thoughtfully. “He was your first love, wasn’t he? I think it’s reasonable to look forward to seeing him again, especially after so long, and you’ve both moved on.”

Jinwoo nods, contemplating his words.

“Is that all?” Minhyuk asks, carefully, scooping up the last of his apple pie.

“Yeah, I think so… Why?” Jinwoo wonders, “Do you hate listening to me _that_ much?” He jokes.

Minhyuk shakes his head, standing up to clean his plate himself. “No, not at all, JinJin,” he smiles, fondly. “I just promised Sanha I’d steal some of your pastries – we’re having a movie night. God knows, he’s probably already tired, so I wanna get home soon,” he rolls his eyes, but a chuckle falls from his lips.

“Wait – you’re going to steal my food?”

Minhyuk flutters his lashes again. “Don’t you pride yourself on selling only fresh cakes and pastries, Jinwoo? What good would it do to keep all of the unsold pastries here to stale overnight?” He mutters, a persuading lilt in his tone.

Jinwoo huffs, “You know I resell those the next day for cheaper, right? They’re still fine.”

The younger ponders this for a moment. “Yes; but you love me, and I love Sanha, and you love Sanha, too, right?” He bounces on his toes, waltzing by the display cabinet and peering inside. “Come on, Jinwoo, please?”

Sighing, the patissier nods, handing him a large to-go box. “Help yourself,” he mumbles, and continues cleaning. Minhyuk shrieks with gratitude, swiping a few treats from the glass case and piling them into the box. “Mate’s Rates, I suppose,” Jinwoo chuckles, continuing his cleaning.

As Minhyuk snaps the box shut and shoves it in his bag, he heads for the front door, but stops just short of the entry way. “Jinwoo,” he says, quietly, turning around. The streetlight outside shines bright orange in his hair, contouring his face with shadows. “About the other night… Please don’t take what I said too seriously. I think I might have scared you a little or I was too harsh, and I-.”

“Minhyuk, it’s fine. _I’m_ fine. I promise,” he says, a weak smile tugging onto his lips as if to express that he was okay. “Enjoy your pastries, and tell Sanha I say ‘hi’,” he dismisses, waving the boy out.

The brunette unlocks the door and swings it open, standing in the open doorway. “Thank you, JinJin, I owe you one,” he winks, a cheeky smirk plastered on his face. “I’ll see you later.” With that, the door swings shut, and Minhyuk strides out into the night.

And, though Minhyuk gave his apologies, Jinwoo can’t help but feel concerned. He heads home – one lonely and empty rectangular slab in an apartment block. It’s dark and silent inside, not a single sign of another presence within. He crawls into his cold bedsheets, adjacent to the side untouched, and wonders if he’ll ever find that happiness.

The happiness that Minhyuk has, now. The happiness he’d secured only twice in his life.

Dongmin comes to mind, briefly, before the sluggish tendrils of sleep pull Jinwoo into slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> did you like it?? worth continuing?? :)  
> come and chat with me!!! im on [tumblr](parkjinchu.tumblr.com) and [twitter](twitter.com/parkjinchu) and im always ready to cry over astro because i love them a lot keke  
> you can also send me prompts or feedback, both are very welcome and wanted!!


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